


just to feel a couple things twice

by rwnjunnie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: ?? kinda, Angst, Fluff, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I wrote this in like 3 hours, Idols, M/M, Non AU, enjoy??, i love venting and projecting whoo, idk what this is guys, its just sicheng having a gay crisis i guess, no beta we die like men, this kinda takes place during regulate era but its not really important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 12:00:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rwnjunnie/pseuds/rwnjunnie
Summary: That’s simply the way it is. Sicheng and Yuta. Yuta and Sicheng.





	just to feel a couple things twice

**Author's Note:**

> "Some nights I wish I could go back in life, not to change shit, just to feel a couple things twice" — Drake
> 
> yea, idk what this is. forgive me
> 
> as always, english is not my first language so don't be so hard on me. i need to sleep.

“That was the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” Taeyong doesn’t even sound mad, just tired, while he sets down a tray of food on the table next to Taeil’s bed. 

Sicheng can’t hear Taeil’s reply, his mumble lost somewhere between the blankets and pillows his face is currently buried in, but Taeyong sighs and shrugs in Sicheng’s direction before he leaves the room again.

Last night was a mistake, not only from Taeil’s side. To be honest, Sicheng himself can’t remember much of what happened after Taeyong raised his glass over his head on their fifth round of vodka shots and had them all drink to the night they “would never remember”. At least his words came true.

It was all meant to be in good fun, and it was for a special occasion, too. Their first music show win this promotion season. Even Donghyuck was allowed to drink a single round with them before they all, collectively, sent him to bed. He’s so close to being an adult, after all.

Sicheng has no recollection of what Taeil might have done last night that could lead to Taeyong, who has witnessed a lot of stupid stuff in his life as the unofficial leader of an eighteen person group, labelling it so harshly, but he can at least proudly say that he doesn’t feel all that bad. At least not to the point where he can’t get up and has to be nursed back to health by their leader. A little headache at the back of his skull, is all.

A minute or two after Taeil starts snoring again, Sicheng gets up. Yuta’s bed in the middle of their room is empty, the sheets nicely folded. He’s not as obsessed with cleanliness as Taeyong and Jungwoo are, but Sicheng noticed that he does care about the looks of his surroundings a lot.

The dorm is mostly quiet, which is not all that unusual at this hour on a Saturday, when promotions are on a two-day break, but Sicheng suspects that this time, it’s for a different reason than most of them being at practice.

He finds Taeyong in the kitchen, where their leader is cutting up an apple, probably to bring to another member. Upon hearing Sicheng enter the room, he looks up and smiles. “Good morning. I think Yuta is in the living room, if you’re looking for him.”

Sicheng offers a smile in return, but Taeyong has already turned back around.

That’s simply the way it is. Sicheng and Yuta. Yuta and Sicheng. It has always been like that, the two of them, stuck together, ever since Yuta introduced himself to him all those years ago, the brightest, prettiest smile on his face and Sicheng’s cheeks tinged just the faintest shade of pink. He’s always been a sucker for beautiful things, and Yuta was anything if not that. Friendship blossomed easily between them, despite the language barrier, and it was easy for the other members to understand, to adapt to. Yuta and Sicheng. Sicheng and Yuta. Inseparable.

And yes, it’s nice to be associated with someone as beautiful, as talented as Yuta. Sicheng likes it. He likes  _ Yuta _ . But especially in moments like this, Sicheng is scared that Taeyong doesn’t even consider that he might want to spend time with  _ him _ , too.

He doesn’t know how to voice those thoughts, though, so he quietly moves on towards the living room. Towards Yuta. Towards where he is supposed to be.

Yuta is sleeping on the couch, his hands folded neatly on top of his stomach. Some Japanese cooking show is on the TV, so he might’ve been trying to be awake but ended up falling asleep again. Either way, he wakes up at the soft padding of Sicheng’s socked feet against the hardwood floor.

“Oh. What time is it?” His voice is still rough from sleep, which means he hasn’t had his morning coffee yet.

Sicheng sits down on the couch next to him, and Yuta comfortably sinks against his shoulder. “Not that late yet.” He doesn’t flinch at Yuta’s hand settling on top his thigh. It’s nothing new.

At first, he was weirded out by Yuta’s touchiness, and it put some serious dampers on the young sprouts of their friendship until he got used to it. Back at home, skinship even within his family was unusual. His parents were rarely home and the nanny that more or less raised him only ever hugged him when she was leaving for a longer period of time. His friends were never particularly touchy either, and he can’t even say if that’s simply the way it is in China, or if it was just his circle of friends that left out physical touch as a sign of affection.

That’s, however, clearly not the way Yuta grew up. He’s always touching Sicheng in some way, be it full on latching onto his side when they’re sitting next to each other, or shyly linking their pinkies when they are walking together. Sometimes, Sicheng isn’t sure what signals exactly Yuta tries to give him.

On camera, he makes sure to shake off Yuta’s hands, as well as any other member’s, and point out how uncomfortable he is with skinship at every opportunity. And it’s true, in some ways, because unexpected touches make him cringe back and his skin crawls if someone locks him in their arms for too long. He doesn’t know why, but it’s always been like that. Sicheng, who doesn’t like to be touched. On second thought, maybe that was the reason why his friends never touched him much, after all. Maybe they knew.

But for some reason, with Yuta, it’s okay. Yuta snaked his way into Sicheng’s life, with soft, subtle touches at first, when he noticed that they made him uncomfortable. With compliments blown way out of proportion, and smiles so bright they could light up all of Seoul and beyond. Yuta became a solid, unshakeable part of his life before Sicheng even knew what was happening, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to get rid of him soon. Yuta and Sicheng. Sicheng and Yuta. Indestructible. 

Yuta graciously enables Chinese subtitles for the cooking show, but Sicheng isn’t paying attention to it, anyways. And neither is Yuta, apparently, because he peacefully falls back asleep a moment later.

He’s beautiful when he sleeps, Sicheng thinks. But then again, Yuta is always beautiful. His pink hair has faded out into a sort of lilac tinged gray, and it’s getting shaggy. He should probably go see their hairdresser soon, but Sicheng likes his hair a little longer. It makes him look younger.

The planes of his face are soft and and relaxed in sleep, and he looks a little like he was carved from marble, his face all sharp features, hard edges and handsomeness. But when Sicheng lifts his hand to run a finger down his cheek, it gives in all too willingly, the skin like finest velvet beneath his touch. He holds his breath when for a moment, Yuta’s eyelids flicker, but he doesn’t wake up.

Sicheng gently lowers him down onto the sofa cushions, freeing him from his cramped position cuddled against him, but he stays sitting right next to Yuta, legs tangled together.

He can’t be caught like this, staring at his friend with so much awe. Because on camera, it’s perfectly fine if Yuta’s eyes linger on him for a moment too long, or if Johnny’s whines for Taeil’s attention get a little too serious, or if all of them can’t help but stare at Taeyong in silent adoration when he’s being his usual, unexpectedly gentle self. But even on camera, Sicheng is never one of the affectionate members. He’s not one to give out compliments when it’s not expected of him, he doesn’t even know how to because sometimes when he looks at the others, those boys he spends every day of his life with, his heart brims with so much love that he knows even in Chinese his vocabulary would be too limited to put it all into words. And off camera, those things are less than appreciated.

Sure, everyone loves a compliment or an expression of affection here and there, but lingering eyes, wandering hands, excessive clinginess from everyone other than Yuta or one of the kids—it’s just not what they do. They’re friends. Family. Nothing more than that, as their managers keep reminding them, voices and expressions strict but their eyes filled with something that might be fear, for themselves or for the group, no one knew.

Sicheng knows all this, he knows he should look away and watch the cooking show Yuta put on, if only to tell him what happened later, he knows he shouldn’t think about Yuta’s beauty so intensely in the first place, for he will never be able to ignore it again. But he also knows that if one of the other members was to walk in right now, he wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away, wouldn’t care what they thought of him or what scolding words from Taeyong he’d have to expect later in the day, perched on top of Taeyong’s bed on his own.

He is careful, he always is. He doesn’t think he’s made it through a single day of his life without constantly being on his toes about whatever he is doing. He doesn’t want to burden anyone. But Yuta, Yuta is worth it, maybe.

Yuta and Sicheng. Sicheng and Yuta. It has only ever been the two of them.

But that’s not true, because Sicheng loves them all, all other seventeen members and the trainees that are still to be added to their team. He loves them all in their own tiny details that set them apart from the group, like Johnny’s everlasting patience or Renjun’s secret delicacy or Jungwoo’s gentle boldness. Lucas with his way too loud jokes as opposed to Kun who is sweet and quiet. Listing them all would exhaust his mind, but he knows that they all have a special place in his heart. They’re his family, maybe more of one than he ever had before.

But Yuta. Yuta who made himself a home in his life when Sicheng wasn’t looking. Yuta who is more than his friend, more than his family, who is a part of him and at the same time isn’t. He can’t explain what makes him different, he’s never been good with words. That was Mark’s and Taeyong’s talent.

Sicheng has only ever been good at one thing, and that was sticking to the people he loved. (He can almost hear his members disagreeing with him on that one, saying how talented he is, and the thought makes him smile.)

His hand wanders on its own accord, and before he even knows it, his fingers tangle with Yuta’s. Their palms fit perfectly together, slotting into each other like they were meant to be held like this.

This time, Yuta’s eyes do open after a second of his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“What’re you doing?” He drags Korean syllables weirdly out when he’s sleepy, Sicheng noticed before. You can barely hear his accent most of the time outside of those moments. Or, well, at least Sicheng can’t.

“I don’t know,” he says. He still can’t tear his eyes away, not even now that Yuta is awake. “I guess I just felt like holding your hand. If that’s okay.”

And maybe Sicheng is imagining it, but he’s pretty sure he sees the corners of Yuta’s mouth curl into the beginnings of one of his internationally famous smiles before he’s suddenly yanked down, his head landing on Yuta’s chest. “You’re so weird sometimes, oh my god.”

Really, he wouldn’t care if Taeyong or one of their managers walked in and scolded them right now. For the moment, he just lets himself laugh into the dip between Yuta’s chest muscles.


End file.
